Maman
by Equestrienne Dreams
Summary: Immediately prior to her wedding, Shelagh and Julienne take a moment to reflect and to heal. Shulienne, background Turnadette.


Everyone froze when the knock sounded on the door.

"That's our cue," said Jenny quietly, sliding one last pin into Shelagh's hair and standing up. "We'll see you at the chapel."

"But – " protested Trixie.

Cynthia glared.

Trixie fell silent, then smiled. "You're going to knock our socks off," she told Shelagh, her eyes suspiciously bright.

Wrapped in a short, silky dressing gown over her slip and petticoat, Shelagh smiled back, her eyes faintly watery. "Thank you," she said softly. "For everything."

"Oh, tosh," managed Trixie, her voice choked, and fled, Cynthia and Jenny slipping out behind her.

And then Sister Julienne came through the door, and Shelagh forgot everything else.

"My dear girl." Julienne blinked the tears from her eyes at the sight of Shelagh in her dressing gown, her hair and makeup carefully done, and Chummy's confection of a wedding gown laid out on the bed.

"Sister." Shelagh rose in a puff of chiffon and tulle, her petticoat swirling slightly as she walked over to take Julienne's hands in her own. "I am so glad you are here."

Julienne cupped the dear face in her hands, looking into Shelagh's eyes. "How are you, Shelagh?"

A smile spread across her face at that, but it was a smile tempered by more than a hint of nerves. "I could hardly tell you," she admitted with a laugh. "Nervous. Thrilled. Terrified. Overjoyed."

"As you should be," Julienne said kindly, her heart pounding with her own kind of nerves. "We shan't disturb your hair putting on your gown, I hope?"

"No," said Shelagh, shrugging the dressing gown off her shoulders and standing there in slip and petticoat. With anyone else she would have felt indecent, overexposed, but this was Sister Julienne, after all, and so who else could it have been helping her today?

Carefully Julienne eased the gown over her hair and shoulders, settling the skirt over the petticoat as Shelagh slipped into the long sleeves, and then she began the time-consuming task of lacing up the back, pulling the laces secure as she crossed and wove through the holes.

Shelagh took in a long breath, felt the fabric draw snug around her body, and silently blessed Chummy for her precise needlework on this gown; it was perfectly fitted, modest enough for Shelagh's taste but undeniably beautiful nonetheless.

At last Julienne tied off the laces, and when Shelagh turned to face her, she couldn't hold back the tears. "Oh, my dear girl," she whispered, "my dear, darling girl!"

"Well?" Shelagh smoothed her skirts and looked at Julienne, her blue eyes full of hope. "Will I do, do you think?"

"You look like a bride," Julienne blurted when she could find words. "And you are the most beautiful sight I've ever seen."

Shelagh smiled tremulously, trying not to cry herself. "Sister, I… I feel as though I owe you an apology, for…"

"For what?" asked Julienne, frankly astonished. "An apology for what, Shelagh?"

"For leaving you," managed Shelagh at last. "I was given so much love, and so much care, and here I am leaving you for – oh, Sister Julienne, it should have been enough! My Sisters, my God, what I have here – it should have been enough!"

"Shelagh!" said Julienne, a bit more sharply than she'd intended. "Shelagh." She stepped forward to draw the young woman into her arms, heedless of propriety and reserve, and Shelagh clung to her like an anchor in the storm. "My dearest one, I know the work of God's hand when I see it. We could never be enough because you were not meant for us. Not for a lifetime. How could we –"

And here she paused, suddenly, absolutely sure of what was wrong, and for the first time since everything began, she knew the truth would set them free. "I am so proud of you, Shelagh," Julienne said quietly, brushing a gentle finger over Shelagh's cheek. "You had the courage to follow your heart though the path was dark and rocky, and you did it with strength and grace. The Lord's work or no, this _was _your wilderness, but you found your path in the end, and I am so terribly, terribly proud. It would have been so easy for you to shy away, to hide in the ritual and safety of the Order. It is, indeed, an impulse I know all too well. But you didn't, my girl. You did what the Lord asked of you though it was the most difficult choice of your life, and I could _never _ask more of you than that."

Shelagh looked up at her with glowing, tear-filled eyes, and choked out, "Sister…"

"Hush," Julienne said gently. "Shelagh, my own, those we love never truly leave us. You will always be a part of this Order because you will always be here." She took Shelagh's hand in her own and pressed it to her own heart, and those slim fingers curled into the blue habit that had meant so very much to them both for so long. "In a few hours you will be Nurse Turner, and working with her will be a delight beyond measure. But my dear girl, we will never forget our Sister Bernadette."

Shelagh took Julienne's hand then and kissed the back fervently, then sank into the deepest curtsey of her life and bowed her head. "Will you bless me, Sister?"

Smiling through her tears, Julienne extended her hands for Shelagh's and began to recite, the old Irish blessing coming to her lips as easily as breathing. "'As you travel life together, may God guide you on your way, and bring you newfound joy in each other day by day. May your home be graced with peace, and may your sharing know no bounds; may your friendship know full measure in this lifetime love you've found. And as your closeness deepens, may each moment be the start of a life lived hand-in-hand, and a love lived heart-to-heart.'"

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Julienne continued. "God bless you each and every day, my dearest girl. My blessings are yours, now and always." With shaking hands she made the sign of the Cross, then raised Shelagh to her feet and tenderly kissed her cheek.

Silently, Julienne lifted the veil and anchored its pins in the ripples and curls of Shelagh's fair, shining hair. Clouds of tulle and lace floated from the crown of her head to just above the floor, and Shelagh turned to look at the woman who had been her only confidante for over a decade.

"There you are," Julienne whispered, taking in the sight of the young postulant who had taught her to love again standing before her in bridal white, a brilliant smile on her face, eyes blue as the summer sky glowing like stars.

Suddenly Shelagh reached out to clutch Julienne's hand, holding tight. Without saying a word Julienne squeezed back, a decade of unspoken love communicated in the tight grip of their hands.

Side by side and hand in hand, they walked down the hallways of Nonnatus to the chapel that would always be their sanctuary.

"Oh Lord," whispered Trixie when they arrived. "Oh, my goodness."

Jenny was smiling too hard to speak, but Cynthia spoke for them all when she said, "Oh, Shelagh. You look perfectly marvellous."

Chummy came out of the chapel then, smiling fit to burst. "Oh, wonderful," she said breathlessly, "it came out quite splendid, didn't it! Shelagh, old thing, you look a perfect picture. And Dr Turner said to tell you – "

"Yes?" said Shelagh, a little short of breath herself.

"He said to tell you," said Chummy with a twinkle in her eye, "that he is 'completely certain'. He's quite the sight, I must say. He's rather a dish when he's all tidied up."

Shelagh beamed so hard her face ached, but she said only, "Will you tell him, Chummy, that I couldn't be more certain?"

Eyes twinkling again, Chummy went back the way she had come, and Jane hurried up to them. "Shelagh," she said in her quiet way, "here's your bouquet, with all our compliments."

"Thank you, Jane," Shelagh said softly, breathing in the fragrant blossoms, and Jane bobbed her head and hurried into the chapel, a small, pleased smile on her face. Jenny and Trixie followed her, and at last it was only the two of them again, standing outside the chapel doors.

They said nothing; Julienne merely took their clasped hands and pressed them to her heart briefly, closing her eyes in prayer or from sheer emotion – or, Shelagh suspected, a little of both.

The chapel doors swung open to the sound of Lohengrin.


End file.
